


Shiro-Shiro

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Gen, Mitsuhide's Childhood Name is Jubei, Nouhime's Childhood Name is Kichou, Severina's September 2019 Requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Years after leaving his homeland, Akechi Mitsuhide returns to the ashes of Mino - serving under the very Lord who felled it.  However, there are still some things that, even now, haven't changed.
Kudos: 4





	Shiro-Shiro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xelie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Xelie).



> This was written for Xelie as a request for the month of September 2019.

With Mino subjugated, Mitsuhide could walk through the ruins of the city that had once been his home without worry of attack or ambush. His weapons hung limply at his sides, carving trails in the dirt as he looked over the outlines of houses, of shops, and remembered what it was like to be small in this city. Running through the crowds, the people impossibly tall trees that you could not see over or around.

_Does Kichou remember, too?_

Kichou was not here with them – she was within the palace still, as was Ranmaru, while he and his Lord had personally gone to oversee the destruction of the city that _would_ not fall. Once, they were to be allies, but then Dosan was deposed, and chaos fell over them all. Either way, he had Mino again – just not in the way he had originally expected. 

Mitsuhide dragged himself up the hill, so familiar and so worn, until he reached the tree at the very top. Like an old friend, he thought, and leaned against it for a second, his hair whipping wildly around in the breeze. This was their palace, their castle, when they were young and oblivious and wonderfully so. Jubei and Kichou were its noble defenders, and they would take rounds, much like the sentries at the gates, guarding their sacred land in order to protect its people. 

Well, _person,_ singular, and even that wasn’t fully accurate – 

A flash of white poked itself into the corner of Mitsuhide’s vision and he froze, shocked – surely it couldn’t be. Not after all these years, he had to have died by now, and it was probably his hair getting into his face anyways – the ribbon that he’d tied it back with had blown off into the wind days ago and he couldn’t be bothered to put it back up. Just a trick of his imagination, he decided, and then his imagination _meowed._

“You’re still here…?” He knew his words were soft, so soft only he could hear them, and yet he still stretched a bony hand out towards the bushes around the base of the tree, beckoning. For a moment he held perfectly still. And then slowly, a white, scraggly-looking cat crawled out of the brush, tentatively sniffing his hand before fawning its face onto him. 

“Shiro-Shiro,” Mitsuhide murmured, and the cat chirruped curiously. “How have you lived for so long?” The cat, of course, did not answer, just as he never had answered their childish inquiries of him. He was the same, even if his fluffy kitten coat was gone, even if he looked more like a war-torn soldier than anything resembling a pet. Fifteen, twenty years, perhaps? He’d certainly _heard_ of cats living that long, but hadn’t quite understood what that truly meant until now.

The cat let out what sounded like a very creaky, nervous purr, and Mitsuhide slid down against the tree, allowing him to climb into his lap. How odd, that he remembered him – even covered in blood and soot, the cat still remembered. Either that or it was so starved for affection that the owner of the affectionate hand mattered not. Mitsuhide tried very, very hard not to think of that second option, for one reason or another.

“Kichou remembers you.” Mitsuhide stroked a hand over the cat’s head, following the line of its spine. “Kichou remembers, Shiro-Shiro. We defended your fortress, remember…?” But the cat had long since drifted off to sleep, and Mitsuhide was overcome with the sudden urge to check the cat’s breathing, even though he could clearly see and feel its chest rising and falling under his hand.

Has it really been so long.

There were no more enemies within Mino. The rebels had been subjugated, and his Lord had shown them no mercy. Following his old companion’s example, Mitsuhide leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.


End file.
